


Campfire Conversations (and a Confession)

by Marbowswan



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur being unsure of himself and cute, Arthur using cigarettes as a coping mechanism, Campfires, Charles being like: I know you have a crush on me, Charles being sure of himself and cute, Cigarettes, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, M/M, One Shot, Public Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, They are sorting out feelings, heehee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:54:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26936191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marbowswan/pseuds/Marbowswan
Summary: A bit of color made its way to Arthur’s cheeks. “I know. I… I started the whole mess.”Charles’s face was an unreadable canvas, like always. Something in the way he stared stung, though, like acid pouring into Arthur’s skin. “You did. You kissed me.”
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith
Comments: 8
Kudos: 121





	Campfire Conversations (and a Confession)

**Author's Note:**

> I saw someone on Twitter complaining about how the Charthur tag had a lot of problematic shit in it so. I took like a day to get this little thing out :) They deserve a cute little get-together fic with maybe a bit of porn on the side!!!

Arthur learned how to blow out smoke between his teeth when he was only nine. His first cigarette was a sad thing, dug out of a box with his father’s rough fingers and shoved into his parted lips with force. _Men smoke. Arthur need’a learn that at his age, don’t he?_ Despite the way it burned his throat and despite the tears that sprouted from his eyes, it never vexed him much. Now, the burn in his throat was comforting— a gentle warmth that coaxed him into lightheaded bliss. 

Smoking, that’s what he was doing at the edge of camp when Charles approached him. He renounced the burning cigarette as soon as he came close, stomping it to the ground with the heel of his boot. A lazy gesture that still signaled his attention. He knew that this conversation didn’t deserve even the slightest distraction. 

Charles was wary when he walked closer, like he was approaching a startled deer. He took small steps, ones that halted when he finally stood at Arthur’s side. 

He clasped a hand onto Arthur’s shoulder. “I meant to speak with you weeks ago.”

“Sure. I figured.” Arthur spoke, words thick. 

“We don’t live somewhere very private.”

That sentence alone was a tremendous understatement. Even now, ten feet away from their Clemens Point camp, Arthur could see a distant figure trudging around with a drink in their hand. The gang was a blessing and a curse— they always had someone, but it was often too suffocating to be much of a good thing. 

“Are we going to talk about what… happened that night?”

Arthur bit the side of his mouth. “Think we should talk, yeah.”

A silence fell between them. Arthur shoved the toe of his boot into the dirt below him, avoiding the responsibility of starting the conversation. 

“You kissed me, Arthur. It’s your call.”

_____

Arthur wasn’t one to idealize much. Having a roof over his head was as good as a tent in the midst of a dense forest and robbing for money was the same as earning a wage for hard labor. In the same vein, trusting Charles with his feelings wasn’t anything he considered different from any other gang member he spoke to. 

For that reason, when he sat next to Charles at that campfire in Horseshoe Outlook, the conversation they entered wasn’t anything he considered noteworthy. He simply sat, stretched his legs in front of him, and tore a cigarette from his pocket before lighting the end.

“You have a crooked smile, Arthur Morgan.” Charles said it with his usual deep voice, the one that held so much power over him. The one that gave Arthur some sort of unknown shivering feeling in his spine. 

He let Charles’s voice infect him for a while longer before he spoke. “Been told that a few times. Ain’t surprising to hear.”

His own voice must’ve come out fierce, since Charles lifted his hands as if to surrender. “Didn’t mean it as a bad thing. I just… feel like you’ve seen some sad things in your time. That’s all.”

“Most who ain’t abidin’ by the law seen some bad things in their time. I ain’t different from most.” 

Arthur took a drag from his cigarette and tapped the end. A cool silence fell between them. That was another thing that wasn’t exclusive to a conversation no matter who he spoke with— Arthur’s ability to speak a person into stillness. Crime hardened him into a blunt man no matter who he was trying to charm and blood taught him not to cut corners with eloquent words.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t cultured enough to recognize warm eyes when he saw them. That sort of thing was unmistakable, and as he strained his own eyes in the darkness, he tried not to let Charles’s gaze take too much of a hold on him. He acted indifferent, breathing in warm smoke as he tilted his head back. Focused on the orange embers dancing into the open air rather than the dark lashes following his face. 

He spent a long while just taking in smoke and open air while he avoided Charles and his eyes. Chocolate eyes that were so soft they seemed innocent. Arthur’s throat felt tight when he inhaled his last breath of tobacco. 

“You’re one step away from seeing me, Arthur Morgan. I know you do.” Charles said, burying his head into the sky.

“Not sure I hear you.” Arthur sighed, discovering the same stars that Charles was staring into. 

The night had stamped blotches of glowing white across a dark void, and with how high up they were at this camp, it appeared close enough to touch. It had been a dry few days, making the air a crisp cold even with the nearby fire. The fire that burned slow in front of them, popping and crackling every few seconds as if to remind Arthur that the warmth existed. He kept a defiant space away, leaning against the chilled air to stare upwards rather than hunching toward the heat.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Charles spoke in his low voice.

“Can’t be upset with the stars.”

The side of Charles’s arm brushed his and the strange shivering feeling in Arthur’s spine multiplied. He bit his lip and curled in on himself. Tried to seem languid as he shoved his hands in front of the fire. He wasn’t sure what he was preparing for, but he knew that his shivering feeling didn’t spell good things. 

Maybe he could feign exhaustion. It was so late now that it was nearly morning anyways. His head was spinning more than it normally did in any case, whether from Charles or the cigarette or the cold air, he wasn’t sure. 

He bowed his head in defeat. “Maybe I should head to sleep.”

His excuse was weak, but Charles nodded. “I won’t keep you.”

All of the tension from Arthur’s body shattered as he stood up, stretching his limbs. He waved his hand in a subtle _goodbye_ , turned in the other direction toward his tent, and then stopped in his tracks.

Something halted him. Something that felt oddly like regret. Like an unwelcome visitor, the feeling entered his body and wouldn’t stray. He turned around to stare at Charles, who was looking back at him from the base of the tall log he was sitting on. 

Recollecting his thoughts, he took a step towards him. He stole another glance at Charles’s expression, which was twisted into a half-amused smirk. Like he expected Arthur to make his way back to the space right beside him that entire time.

“This seat free?” Arthur joked as he approached him again, stomach churning. Charles smiled, chuckling slightly but offering no further input.

Aside from his journal, Arthur was never diligent when it came to considering his own feelings, and he realized it for the first time as he sat down and found himself sweating bullets. He took a few easy breaths, trying to calm himself, but it was no use. Charles’s warm face was now governing all of his emotions.

“You realized it, didn’t you?” Charles asked, quiet.

Arthur felt like he had been accused of a crime as he looked around camp, checking to see if anyone was still awake. When he couldn’t produce any creeping eyes, he nodded. 

Charles inserted himself into his space by shifting closer on the log. Arthur took in his features from up close, and if he could’ve whistled without waking the entire camp, he would’ve. It was hard to think of anything more attractive than Charles and his broad features and clean stubble, framed by sweeps of long, dark hair. 

Arthur’s head was ringing as he leaned in close. “So… so this is what you meant. When you wanted me to… see you.”

“I could tell that you felt it. Seemed annoyed that you couldn’t figure it out too.”

“Shoulda just whipped me ‘til I understood. _Goddamn_. No wonder I always felt so uptight when I saw you talkin’ with someone else.”

Arthur wasn’t sure what to call it, and maybe that’s why it had taken him so long to figure out in the first place. All he knew is that Charles was pleasant to look at, and that he felt nice to sit near, and that placing his lips onto his is something he desired. 

Which is exactly what he did, once he looked around the camp quick as if disobeying some unspoken rule. Truth was, the gang was an assorted mix of sinners, and kissing a man in front of a campfire was probably one of the tamer things that had happened under Dutch’s watch. Still, Arthur felt himself absorbing his surroundings quick before he took Charles’s face in both hands and pushed into his space. 

It felt natural, sliding across his lips and licking into his mouth. Impulse heated his stomach and helped him judge where to put his hands, when to press further and when to pull back. When he found a hand reaching for his belt his stomach scorched, panting into Charles’s mouth as a low groan escaped his throat. Sincere approval from the physical side of him.

Really, release was the only thing that could sedate him. His hands were still trailing all over Charles and his wide chest, grasping into his shirt when his lips were kissing hard enough to bruise. Charles’s hand, the one that wasn’t feeling him at his pants, was brushing through his hair in soothing motions. Calming him but also warning him-- since it was a challenge to stay silent and every subtle tug reminded Arthur of who was now in charge.

When their lips finally parted Arthur immediately turned to the flesh at his neck. Charles almost protested, an indignant noise barely escaping, but Arthur latched on with his teeth and tasted his skin. Now the hand at his pants was almost panicky, undoing his belt in seconds and feeling him up through his drawers. Daring him to make a sound. 

Arthur left the mark that he printed on Charles’s neck, throwing his head back as his cock finally met rough skin. He must’ve resembled a young virgin at that point, with the way his cheeks burned and how he bucked into every touch Charles offered him. He gasped, and for a second he thought the heated feeling in his gut was harming him rather than sending him close to release.

He found Charles’s belt seconds later. The dark night shrouded them, and the last flickering flames from the campfire hardly provided any light, making it difficult to unhook the clasp and reach into his drawers. It was almost funny how long it took to grasp onto his cock, and he would’ve let out a relieved chuckle if it wasn’t for Charles bringing him closer and closer to the edge. That, and the fact that every noise that passed their lips carried a lethal risk.

Arthur felt Charles shiver as he jerked him twice, deliberately slow as he took in all of his length. Charles pressed a kiss to his temple, continuing to pull at him rough, sending Arthur so close that his toes curled. His other hand folded to the back of Charles’s waist, pulling him tight, like their proximity could get him to come even quicker. 

There was an unequal way in how Arthur was moving his hand, shaking as he took Charles to the base and gripped up and down his length. Charles stifled a grunt into his hair, encouraging the action. That sound, mixed with his breath against the side of Arthur’s face, is what had him finally pushing over the edge. 

He knew he wasn’t permitted to speak, but the urge was overwhelming as he spilled into Charles’s hand. His other hand was now rubbing shapes into Arthur’s scalp, fingers scratching down to the base of his neck and causing him to tremble through his orgasm. Light touches that had him staring up at stars, fallen.

It was so good that it terrified him. His lips fell into a connection with Charles, one that lasted for a few minutes as he came down from his high. 

When Charles finally came into his hand it was with a low noise, one that sounded like distant music to Arthur’s swimming ears. It was soft enough to ensure that they wouldn’t be gossiped over for the next year, but loud enough to send Arthur’s gut into another wave of heat. He could only imagine what would happen if they weren’t in the middle of camp, surrounded by open tents and audible snoring.

Arthur wiped his palm on his jeans and removed the other hand that was balled into Charles’s shirt. Charles wiped away the come on his hand, sighing as he did, before zipping up his pants and running his other hand through his hair.

Arthur wanted to smother him with thanks, with affection, with all of the thoughts that were speeding through his head faster than he could process them. 

But he ignored those urges and made one of the most foolish mistakes of his life.

“We ain’t never doin’ nothing like that again.”

_____

A bit of color made its way to Arthur’s cheeks. “I know. I… I started the whole mess.”

Charles’s face was an unreadable canvas, like always. Something in the way he stared stung, though, like acid pouring into Arthur’s skin. “You did. You kissed me.”

Arthur swept his boot through some loose dirt on the ground. “Don’t rightly know why I did neither.”

“So… you didn’t want to kiss me?”

Arthur shook his head immediately. “The opposite. I did. Just... didn’t know I had it in me.”

Back at camp, someone whistled a low tune. Arthur fished for something to say, something to fill the flat silence between them, but nothing came. 

A few moments later, Charles tapped his shoulder and pointed to the sky. “Look. They’re about as pretty as we saw that night.”

An instinctive smile came across Arthur’s face. As he stood arm-to-arm with Charles, head tilted back, he stared into hundreds of white flecks positioned above them. A whole sky, laid bare for them to witness, unmoving and graceful. 

“The weather here’s been horrible, though. Nothing like Horseshoe.” Charles muttered. “No comparison there.”

That’s when Arthur looked to him, his dark eyes reflecting the sky above him, and he realized that he would’ve kissed him again if it weren’t for the few people out of their beds back at camp. Charles looked gorgeous when his face was alight, almost childlike in wonder. He seemed friendlier, warmer than his usual reserved demeanor. 

“I’ve missed you.” Arthur whispered, because the quiet was taxing and he could only think of one thing to say— the thing he’d been thinking of for weeks and weeks after he spoke that foolish sentence out loud at that campfire in Horseshoe. 

It had been habitual, the way he avoided him after that night. He went back to wandering, never staying in camp for long and evading conversations with others when he could. That all finished when he went to find the Clemens Point camp with Charles after that shootout in Valentine. Suddenly, Charles was at the forefront of his mind, and the scent of cigarette smoke never left his skin. 

Arthur slipped a hand through his hair, sighing deeply. “I know it don’t mean much. But… I asked to talk ‘cause I don’t know what the hell I’m doin’. I just know that… I liked what happened.”

Charles laughed, little crinkles forming at the edge of his eyes as he turned to stare at Arthur. “I figured as much.”

“You… you did?”

“I’ve never seen you so... inspired to write in that journal of yours.” Charles smiled, pointing a finger to the journal tucked in Arthur’s satchel. “Cracked it open damn near every minute you came back to camp at Horseshoe.”

“Shit. You gotta teach me how to read people like it’s nothin’.” Arthur sighed, shaking his head.

Maybe he just wasn’t a tricky person to figure out, though Charles was staring at him with a fond smile that told him it was more than simple observation. That freezing night, weeks ago, when he had read Arthur as if it was effortless— maybe that hadn’t been observation either. Maybe he just watched Arthur from a distance, in the way any honorable person with an interest in someone would. Maybe that night hadn’t been as abnormal as he once believed. Perhaps it was simply the culmination of a peaceful attraction between them that only Charles had noticed.

The air still smelled like cigarettes despite the one Arthur had crushed under his heel, but he didn’t find himself craving another even with the way his head was swimming. Instead, he reached out and grasped Charles’s hand.

As he inserted himself into his space, for once not caring who watched, Charles grinned. “I like that smile. It’s good. Genuine.”

Arthur crowded into his space, lips pulling to smile even further. “Lost it’s _crookedness_ , then?”

“I’d say so.” Charles said before kissing him like he had the last time, all those weeks ago. Arthur simply clung onto his shirt and melted in.

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said, super short!! Kinda just did it as some guilty pleasure writing. God bless Charles Smith and Arthur Morgan for being bisexual


End file.
